


the door was open (just a crack)

by wtfmulder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Adjoining Rooms, Catching the other jerking it, F/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 10:06:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18333788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtfmulder/pseuds/wtfmulder
Summary: Dana Scully is the voyeur in this one.





	the door was open (just a crack)

She had cracked the door open just to check up on him. He’d been exhausted to the point of churlishness when they had parted ways for the night; that he might be awake hadn’t even occurred to her.

But there he was, silver and soft under the glow of the television, his head lolled back against the headboard. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he silently writhed, clearly well-versed in the art of being discreet.

Scully leaned against the door frame, struck dumb and hot as a bolt of arousal flashed through her. Christ, he was beautiful. The way his muscles clenched as his hand worked in his lap, how hard he worked to stay so quiet.

She squeezed her thighs together and curled her hands into tight fists. Any moment now, she would close the door as quietly as she possibly could and return to her bed, forever pretending that this had never happened.

She clutched at her cross, bunching the chain between her fingers as she studied his face. She just… so rarely got the chance to watch Mulder do anything. If she looked at him too long, he would always catch her. He was too paranoid to be looked at too long.

But he was lost in his own mind, conscious of nothing beyond his closed lids. She wondered what he saw, licked her lips. She had theories. Her eyelashes fluttered — oh, did she have theories. If each day’s end left him even a fraction as frustrated as they left her, then it wasn’t a stretch at all to assume that he could be thinking of her. She wanted to believe.

“Scu…” he gasped, increasing his pace and scaring the crap out of her. For a moment she was sure she’d been caught and felt horrible about what she had done. Mulder was such a private person and this was the ultimate intrusion.

When she realized that he was only proving her theory, not catching her in the act, a force outside herself brought her hand down to cup her pussy through her pajama pants. She bit back a moan; the pressure building up was unbearable, and it had to be relieved.

Guilt coursed through her as she made a decision to slip her fingers under her waistband and into her panties. God, this was wrong. This was so unbelievably wrong, and she had thought herself to be long passed the days of loving what felt wrong.

When she brushed against her swollen clit, just a whisper of a touch, she had to clamp her free hand over her traitorous mouth.

Still, she kept her gaze resolutely on Mulder, whose silence was cracking apart. A sharp intake of breath, a groan that rumbled in his chest and made her push her fingers into her body.

She cursed the blanket that hid him from her. She’d never seen it, but she knew enough that he was gifted, and what was once a healthy curiosity was now a burning need to know. The longer she watched him, the more she obsessed. She wanted to see it. To run her tongue over its length, to have him come in her mouth.

She listened carefully for the slick sound of his hand moving over his flesh, holding her breath so she wouldn’t miss it. It was positively lewd. Briefly, she imagined the mess of where this would lead, streaks of pearly white painting his belly and chest, and she clenched around her fingers.

Dizzy. She felt dizzy. Mulder looked as if he were in pain, and she wondered if she wore the same expression. Pinched brow and slackened jaw, she wanted to soothe the poor man, kiss his open mouth, the mole right above his jawline.

She wanted to fuck him. Tell him how pretty he looked, how sweet.

It might have been a sound she made, unable to stop herself as they both got closer and closer to release. It could have been the wind outside that snagged his attention, or maybe it  _was_  that pathological paranoia that made him finally look up and catch her in the act.

He sat up, bewildered. She snatched her hand out of her pants like she was drawing out her gun.

“Scully?” He croaked, like a madman’s lonely lucid thought.

_Ohgod,_ shethought, and she backed away into the darkness of her room as her mind went blank, incapable of processing just how badly she screwed up.

She shut the door because she didn’t know what else to do, and brought both hands to her mouth like she expected herself to scream. Oh  _god._ She was crazy. She was a filthy pervert.

Mulder knocked on the door and she started to sob, for she was a filthy pervert and he was a fucking idiot. She didn’t answer.

When he opened the door instead, Scully was contemplating jumping out of the window.

He looked at her, sleepy and bemused, and still so fucking hard. “What the hell were you doing, Scully?”

She licked her lips. “I was seeing if you were asleep.”

He stepped closer. “How long were you watching?”

“I didn’t see anything,” she replied, her tone defensive, petulant.

“You know how much I have to pay to get a show like you just did?” He asked.

He was creeping ever closer, his face blank, but there was an edge to his tone that belied real anger, and for a fraction of a second she was afraid of him.

But then she remembered just who the creep was in this situation. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice trembling.

She could feel him watching her. She was too ashamed to look him in the eye, even when he came so close they were touching.

She winced when his hand fell to her waist, a gentle touch. It was a little more intimate than how he normally touched her. “I’m not angry that you watched.”

“It was an egregious invasion of your privacy Mulder, and a terrible thing to do to a friend.”

“Is that something friends do?” With the other hand, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

He was so close, smelling like sex, erection cutting into her gut. Everything was moving so fast again, and she needed Mulder to spell it all out for her so that she could make just one rational decision on this horrible night.

Reluctantly, she made eye contact. She swallowed when she saw the way he looked at her, the unguarded hope plain on his face.

To say no would imply that it was only fun for her when he was nothing but an object. It would imply she had no qualms about using him.

That simply wasn’t right. But to say yes was expressing consent for a change too large for her to wrap her head around. It was more like Mulder to leap — but he hadn’t, had he? He had never made a move on her.

Except for now.

It was evidence he needed, she realized. Cold hard facts. Just for once. Just for this.

She kissed him.

With her fists in his hair, standing on the tips of her toes, she sealed the deal like the crack of a gavel.

He groaned in her mouth and clothes melted, they grew wings and flew to the next city. He slipped a strong hand between her trembling legs and whimpered when she dripped and squeezed around his fingers, pouring into his hand like a hot spring. 

The bed was too far, the long trek a safety hazard with their locking limbs. The wall was only two feet away. Her legs went around his waist and he hauled her there, and without any warning, in a single, genius move, he slipped inside her. 

_Oh._ It stung, but she liked that. Fuck, was this really happening? Was this Mulder? Doubtlessly, it was. Those were his arms underneath her thighs, holding and folding her up as he pounded into her. Those were his lips on her neck, that was his tongue, it was scent that drove her wild. God, this was Mulder. This was really Mulder. 

And he wouldn’t dare let her forget. “ _Scully,”_ he growled in her ear, the timber and rasp of his voice making her quake. She never expected that hearing her own last name would damn near almost make her come one day, but there was so much to unpack in the way he said it. It was filthy beyond comprehension. It was tender, filled with the amazement he wore so well, but he fucked her with her own name as he filled her up. 

This was a moment with years and years of preparation, of desire, of love so strong it could snap them in half, but they raced against time as he urged her to come, as he slowed his thrusts to a slow, deep grind to help her along, her clit mashed up against his pubic bone. She was already so close from watching him, and the violent, frantic way in which he took her had her coming apart in record time, her nails scraping down his sweaty back, her cries trapped in the tight seal of their bodies. 

He gulped for air as she clenched around his cock. She wondered if maybe she was hurting him, but the second she regained her senses, he was coming inside her, burying himself as deep as he possibly could and kissing anywhere his mouth would land on. He gasped into her cheek with a final twitch of his hips and she directed his lips to hers. They kissed while he eased himself out and allowed Scully to slide slowly onto her feet. 

They cuddled in her bed. She held his head to her chest, petting his hair, trying to catch up on the forgotten art of breathing. 

“What are the charges for peeping on a federal agent?” he asked, weaving their legs together so it would be too difficult for her to push him out of bed.

She cooed at his dumb joke. He could arrest her tomorrow.


End file.
